Trail of Shadows

The tall, muscular elf sniffed the air; activating his olfactory boosters, he tried to pick up a particular scent-or series of them.

He was hunting-people, of course. Murderers, to be exact. 

Three of them. 

Three criminals who had been leaving a trail of fear around the Redmond slums. Their M.O. was breaking into places, murdering who was there, partying and running off with valuables-thrill killers and thieves. Melek, having devoted himself to cleaning up some of the worst scum after helping to form the vigilante gang which allowed many people with questionable or downright darker pasts to redeem-felt they have reached the tipping point after the third house.

They had no racial bias it seems; so far they had killed an old ork man, a young human couple, and a troll fellow who just started college, of all things; they weren’t picky. If they smelled something decent, they’d go after them. There were also rumors they took part in nastier things, which Melek decided to put a stop to once and for all. Even after the first, had Melek came across them he’d have ended it gladly, though he decided to take it upon himself to actively hunt them down once Lone Star decided once again the Barrens weren’t worth their time.

And they were heading toward a fourth. Sadly, they had likely already struck.

The Redmond Barrens were some of the worst parts of Seattle; he was in one of the better parts, in that most of the people actually had run-down apartments in bad neighborhoods. Given to blight, it was sometimes hard for him to zero in on various smells due to the overwhelming nature of the place; garbage, smoke, piss, and the occasional whiff of a corpse could quickly overwhelm. Luckily, in the slightly better areas, the latter was often not smelled. The shift in weather to the cold that happened likewise toned things down a bit; the summers were much worse.

Corner stores with broken and buzzing neon signs were scattered between blighted buildings, mostly closed at this point, as security was whatever you could purchase from the local gangs and many businesses here weren’t doing too well. The Stuffer Shack remained fairly populated, though made sure it didn’t miss its payments to the local gangs for its protection.

It was still better than the worst part of the Barrens, who had squats, burned-out buildings and hovels at best and security was what you could make for yourself. Entertainment was where one could lose themselves in the addictive BTL chips that allowed them to escape the forsaken lifestyle, even if it drove one to starvation because that nuyen scrounged from that used cyber sold to the street doc was used for more chips instead of nutrisoy.

Fun times.

This area wasn’t technically Nocturnal Sin turf, but given they were vigilante types, they would go where needed. Some of their members were even ‘higher class’-Eris, who had magic to let her fit into many places, often dealt with people at the likes of Club Penumbra, and Judas would go about various criminal syndicates. Generally they were located around South Tacoma, which was, despite Lone Star’s thinner presence, kept rather safe by them. They did, of course, take part in gang activities-vehicle chopping, occasional moving of shady wares, and other odds and ends, thanks to their variety of members-though they didn’t strongarm the local populace for protection, given their entire reason for existing.

Melek had visited the other murder sites; it was nasty stuff. Did their work with cutters mostly-probably combat knives, he figured. A shotgun blast was found in one place, and a heavy pistol round in another. Melek, being decent with knives, noticed the cuts and slashes were rather crude, showing they often just brute-forced their way in and did their work.

He had been tipped off by an investigator buddy of his, and went to the scenes to try to pick up a ‘scent’-Melek was not exactly an investigator-he was pure, unadulterated muscle-but he was smart, perceptive, and had a rather hefty olfactory booster that he used to use to sniff out explosives during his military days.

Now, he could use it to hunt the criminals he chose to go after for his ‘duty.’

Finally reaching the point where the scent left; he had a feeling he had the right spot. An apartment-more than a squat, in one of the ‘nicer’ spots in Redmond...to the extent that there was one. A place that had actual apartments instead of squats, albeit they were fairly run-down.

Inside, he could smell blood.

Frag. Too late.

Stalking quietly-despite being seven feet tall and wearing his signature spiked boots, he could be fairly stealthy when he wanted to-he crept inside, unsheathing the Cougar Longblade on his leg and brushing some of his long, dark red hair behind his ear. He decided against the Franchi-SPAS on his back, as he felt like he wouldn’t need it, and only liked to use guns when necessary anyway. He preferred to fight unarmed when possible, though he did grow to find knives useful over his years of combat training. The Cougar Fineblade types were his favorite; frighteningly sharp, holding an edge as well as anything treated with Dikote, and heavy enough to take the power he could put behind the blows without breaking.

There was a small apartment when he poked in-perhaps three rooms. The main room had three men-humans-who were somewhat bloodied, and rummaging around the place. One of them was pawing through the small fridge, while another was digging through a cabinet, laughing as he cracked open a bottle of synthahol.

At the table-this room was seemingly the kitchen and front room all in one-was a man slumped over, blood pouring from his neck.

His eyes narrowing, he decided to end this now. He tied his bandana-which he usually tied on his upper arm-over the lower half of his face; he didn’t have his usual ballistic mask with him tonight, which is what he often wore in combat. It provided more protection and even had a gas mask built in; but this would suffice to somewhat conceal his identity, just in case.

Not that he was hard to identify even with the mask, but it paid to take some caution.  

Shoving the door open, he grabbed the first man almost immediately-no one could actually react in time as they were too distracted, possibly slightly blitzed on some sort of drug-and shoved his blade into the man’s temple, twisting it with a snarl before yanking it out and snapping his neck in a fit of overkill. He violently threw the corpse into the man off to the side, burying him under it and a few chairs that fell as well. This man had a gun, but he was a bit preoccupied at the moment to actually attack.

“What the frag!” was all the man in front could blurt out as he fumbled with the cheap, bloody combat knife at his belt. It was no use; these guys were at best barely-trained thugs who even a second-tier gang could probably take out in a toe to toe fight; dangerous to untrained civilians, but not rougher opposition, and certainly nowhere near a highly skilled elf whose natural power-and hefty augmentations-made him capable of tearing a troll’s arm from its socket.

Which he had done in the past.

Still, he managed to slice Melek once up the chest with his blade; his dermal sheath caught most of it, but the blow was good enough to cause a streak of red to appear on his chest along with the telltale sharp, burning pain one felt when cut with a knife. Had he not had his augmentations, it would have gone much deeper. The man stumbled back to put some distance between the two; he had some sort of fighter’s instinct, at least.

Looking down at his chest a moment and seeing the red through his tattered, sleeveless shirt, Melek snarled at the man, his eyes narrowing. He flipped his bloody knife over in his hand, causing the man to glance quickly at it, stepping back again-this time out of fear, he could tell. Melek towered over him and he had just taken out his partner as if he had been a dummy.

He then let loose with a kick to the man’s chin instead; he was far enough away that he did not connect square...but the jagged, Dikote-coated spikes on the sole of his heavy boot, coupled with his insane strength, practically tore the jaw from his face as he toppled over, gurgling. Kicking him one more time in the side of the head, he caved it in with a sickening crunch.

The near-berserk looking elf let a heavy breath loose as the stench of blood overtook his sensitive nose as he saw the last man try to struggle to stand. Looking over, he saw the man at the table had been knocked back; the rough stab wounds on his chest, back, and even eyes were now visible.

At this point, the ‘red haze’ had fully come over Melek; one thing that had stuck with him from his earlier days was his sometimes inability to break off from combat until his foes were dead. This went double if they angered him; he was like this ever since the big incident in Chicago with his unit. Now he took the near-visage of the demon he was nicknamed after as he walked over, kicking the other man violently in the stomach, narrowly missing disemboweling him with spikes. It was a clumsy hit due to the positioning, so the man caught very little-but it still knocked the wind out of him.

“What the frag are you?” he yelled, scrambling to reach for the battered Roomsweeper on his belt...and he was cut off with a scream as Melek kicked him in the side of the face; he could feel the spikes do their terrible damage with this blow. He did not use his full force; almost wanting to give him what he gave to the dead man in the corner. The man uttered an inhuman sound before he kicked again.

Losing himself a moment, he let his enormous strength go wild. He stopped screaming in fast order, as he was easily killed with the second blow; subsequent blows with the heavy spikes were done from sheer rage. He was fairly silent, though anyone who may have heard the sounds coming from the place would have probably regretted listening in.

By the time he was done, there was little left of note save for a horrific, gory mess.

Panting and wiping the blood from his forehead-it had managed to spatter all the way up due to the sheer force-he turned while wiping his knife clean on his pant leg and shoving it into the sheath; sliding down the bandana, he glanced down. Blood ran from the wound on his chest, though it was no matter. He’d just clean it up when he got back to the hideout; it was a far cry for what had covered other parts of him.

He leaned against the wall for a moment to collect himself. Even after his bad ‘ware had been removed, he occasionally had trouble ‘winding down’ after a fight. While he didn’t have to drug himself with Bliss to take the edge off anymore, he didn’t have any of his MAO injectors on him, which he often didn’t have to carry and he usually spared them for back at the hideout. Thankfully he no longer suffered the horrific blood-pressure spikes and headaches that his previous state used to offer him, but he would sometimes find himself still on edge after a fight; it could be hard for him to tell his brain to ‘turn off.’ He wondered if more of the now-light damage would heal completely one day. He could only hope.

Taking the next best step, he reached into the pocket of his armored leather jacket and pulled a flask; in it he kept a very stiff load of alcohol. Well, synthahol-he saved his real stuff for better occasions than after a fight. Taking a long gulp, he swallowed the harsh liquid and exhaled; it was a fairly nice way to calm the rest of the ‘haze’ as he nicknamed it. His massive size kept him sober; a simple flask was not enough to get him drunk, but it would take the edge off a little.

After a few more moments, he wound down a bit more; enough for him to start to check the place out.

Flipping on the thermographic vision of his cybereyes, he quickly scanned the open doors for anyone hiding; there were two open doors and one slightly cracked one, but he suspected if someone tried to break out of that one he’d be able to react in time. There was nothing but cooling or cold bodies. The killers had been augmented; he suspected, after glancing at some of the ‘ware that hadn’t been trashed, it was likely used and of poor quality, as many of the squatter-types tended to have. One had half of a cyberarm that had been covered by a jacket and glove, and it certainly wasn’t new.

Swapping back to normal vision, he studied the victims closer.

It was a man that seemed to be roughly in his twenties; a human, he discovered, of about average height and appearance, and judging by his build could have worked manual labor, though he wasn’t huge. Shaking his head, he ripped the battered tablecloth off of the table and gently picked him up; his head rolled back. They had surprised him, by the look.

He covered him with the cloth, out of respect. He regret not getting there in time, though he supposed he put an end to the killers’ short reign of terror; that would have to do. The folks of Redmond had spoken of them out of fear, and they were at least gone now. He had done the duty he had joined Nocturnal Sin to do-violently remove the worst scum whenever he could. He had probably the dirtiest atonement job of all of them, as he most often got to see the worst of the victims. Often, people would mistake the massive elf-whose primary killing method usually involved crushing his enemies like bloody insects-for a psychopath himself, but he was shockingly empathetic with the victims he would rescue.

As he rummaged through the bodies of the men-there were bits of stolen goods in their pockets, probably from their other robberies-he glanced into the cracked door offhand...and noticed something that he didn’t before.

The corner of a crib.

Oh, fragging hell.

Afraid of what he’d find, he slowly made his way there, his stomach sinking further than he may have ever felt it sink before. His olfactory boosters were too overtaken with the stench of blood and synthahol from the broken bottle; he couldn’t focus them closely enough on the room yet...

...but upon opening the door, he saw the room was completely unharmed.

He breathed what may have been one of the biggest sighs of relief of his life; he thought for a moment...before deciding to go wash up better in the bathroom. The red ‘battle-haze’ had now long left him, thought it was replaced with something else. A mix of dread, sadness, and relief...all at once.  

After cleaning himself the best he could, he dried off with a ragged towel he found; he looked much better now, having gotten the worst of it off. He paused to lift his faded, loose shirt and examine the wound; he supposed he should have kept the jacket shut while he fought, especially given he was wearing his heavier leather jacket today instead of his usual tattered, sleeveless longcoat, but he was impulsive from time to time. My own fault, he thought.

Finishing, he went back and carefully pushed open the lightweight door.

He saw what was a confused and lost child; perhaps only about six months old-in the crib. Half asleep, he was surprised he didn’t wake up through all of this, though he seemed to be somewhat coming to now. An elf, he saw. He blinked, though this could happen; if his mother had been an elf, that could have easily happened, and occasionally a child could be born of another metatype. Regardless of how it happened, the small fellow was an elf.

Closing his eyes for a second, he shook his head. Jesus fragging christ. If I had gotten here later…

He shook the worst thoughts from his head, forcing himself to come back to the present.

“Shh,” he said, leaning over, making sure he was unharmed. He hoped his unsettling, red and black cybereyes didn’t frighten him too much. Physically, they looked like a normal set of eyes in his head-they weren’t some sort of oversized or freakish custom shape-but they were of a color not known to nature.

“I’m sorry,” he continued after a few moments. “I didn’t get here in time.” He didn’t notice his voice getting thick as he started to remember back to his own father who had raised him in Tarislar, but he shook off the thoughts. There would be no time for that at the moment. Glancing around the room, he did see a picture; it was of a young elven woman.

Turning, he thought of something and went back over to the man; he hated to do this, but it was fairly important, he thought. He grabbed his wallet to search through things. There was no standard ID he could find-those sorts of things were attached to credsticks and he had no reader on him-but he did find a couple of pictures. One of them indeed was of the same woman, but this apartment, that he could see, was small and after searching around, clearly only had one adult living in it.

Putting things together, he had a sinking feeling that the mother had passed away; likely not that long after he was born. He had no idea how or even if this was the case-but judging by there was a picture of the woman both in his wallet and in the child’s room, and that the apartment looked like only one adult lived here, he could unfortunately guess. He pocketed the wallet, hoping that it would hold information that someone could use.

In any case, there were no phones he could find-he could not find the man’s cellphone, and given he was not much of a hacker, wouldn’t have been able to get into it himself anyway. He could have taken it to one of his chummers, but finding it clearly wasn’t happening at the moment, which just made things more difficult. Examining more of the tiny flat, there was an old trid, a hot plate, and a few other odds and ends that were probably purchased used, by the look.

Trying to switch on his ‘commander brain’-the mindset that he would get when he’d deal out objectives to various gang members during hairy situations-he started to piece together what to do next.

He would have to take the child with him to ensure his safety for now.

He searched around quickly for a large blanket and whatever clothes the child had; he found something that looked like a coat. He was dressed in the crib, but it was fairly cold out; it was thankfully not raining for once. Glancing through cupboards he couldn’t find food at the moment; given the child looked fed enough, he reckoned he had just run out for now.

Melek then wrapped the little fellow up and tucked him against his shoulder as he began to whimper; hiding his face the best he could he quickly left the apartment and dashed to the alleyways. Thankfully, there was no one around. He didn’t allow his thoughts to get away from him; right now, he had to clear his head.

When he felt like he had gotten to a safe area, he sat in the alley a moment to gather his thoughts as he rocked the tiny figure carefully, hoping the whimpers would not transform to full-blown cries. At the moment, he seemed either too confused, too tired, or both.

As he sat in the garbage-strewn alley, the wind skittering various wrappers about and the sound of half-broken lights buzzing in his ears along with cars passing overhead on the several elevated streets that were going around the city, he tried to sort out who he had to call first while he mentally set his route. He would have to go through the outskirts of Bellevue to reach the downtown-on one hand, Bellevue was the most expensive district in Seattle. On the other hand, it tended to be highly patrolled because of this.

Not uncommon the worst places would be next to some of the best, but such was life. Luckily he would be downtown soon enough after that.

He thought Spanky was as good as anyone to call; one of his older friends in the shadows, and easily one of the most reliable fixers he knew, and he figured goal! Would be the perfect place to go. Calling up the number on his wristphone, the red-haired Fomori picked up almost immediately.

“Spanky,” he said, walking quickly down the alleyways, trying to stay out of sight; luckily Goal! was located a little off the beaten path near the edge of downtown, nestled in a small bunch of buildings near several massive skyscrapers.

“Melek? What’s wrong, chummer?” Spanky was behind the bar as usual. The screen on Melek’s wristphone was open, but due to the darkness on his side it was difficult to see anything.

“Look, clear out a spot in the back. Make sure it’s empty.”

“Right,” Spanky replied, figuring he had something that needed to stay quiet.

“I’m gonna have someone coming soon with some stuff from the Shack. Formula, bottles. Clean ‘em up. I know you got that fancy kitchen there.”

Spanky blinked; he waved Huginn over; the elf quickly walked behind the counter to take over duties, as he would from time to time. He went to one of the back rooms, scratching his head. “Do...I want to know what this is about?” His mind was already trying to form some scenarios.

“You’ll know more when we get there. Hey, is that Jolt I hear?” The young decker could be quite loud.

“Heh, yeah. Jolt and Downfall are here. Not sure where the rest of the usual are.” Despite having lived in Ireland, he didn’t have too much of his accent left; a couple of decades in Seattle, along with speaking several languages, made it less noticeable. It came out from time to time when he was cursing at football games, however.

“Alright, it’s cool if they see. Be there soon.” He hung up, continuing on his way as he rocked the tiny elf. “Shhh. We’ll have you some food soon, little man. Try not to cry.” He rocked him a little more. “Never tried fightin’ with a little one in my hands,” he joked.

The tiny elf squirmed and whimpered; he was confused, but oddly, did not cry. Melek hoped he was keeping him warm enough. Milling things over in his head for a few moments as he made his way slowly through back alleys-well out of the way of sight of anyone-he remembered something and stopped, looking at his wristphone again.

Eve. I’d like her there. He called her up next; it took a few rings but she soon picked up.

“Eve?” he said, very quietly. The two used their real names with each other.

“Tarin? What…”

“Come to Goal.” The little elf gurgled in the background.

“I...hear something. Is...why…”

“I’ll explain later.”

“O...of course. I’ll see you there.”

Hanging up quickly, Melek rocked the small figure in his arm carefully as he tried to settle his final call before making his incredibly quick dash through Bellevue, into downtown, and toward Goal; he decided that a special buddy-Seto Kyosho-would be the man for this job.

Seto was a Japanese ork in his late twenties; ex Lone-Star, he now worked as a private detective of sorts. He was in touch with some of the people around-he knew Spanky, and he knew the gang and had a decent working relationship with them. He had quit Lone Star after the corruption got to him, nowadays walking the line between the two-keeping in contact with the ‘better’ folks of Lone Star-the ones who disliked the corporate corruption, but still needed work and wanted to at least try to make a difference-and also the more well-meaning people of the shadows, even if their methods were more questionable. He tended to get on fairly well with Nocturnal Sin, given they had similar end-goals, though Seto tended to only fight when he had to and he had to go a little overboard a few times to try to help cover up some of their more ‘detailed crime scenes’.

He knew Seto could probably be the right person to call. He tended to not ask questions with the information you gave him.

Dialing up, he continued to rock the tiny elf. “Seto,” he said, very quiet, but a tone of urgency in his voice.

“Melek? Everything…”

“Look, I’m going to need a few favors. I’ll explain later. Don’t worry-one just involves the Stuffer Shack.”

“...Wh…”

“Just listen. Please.”

“O...okay.” Melek generally did not sound like this, so he didn’t press the matter.

“I’m giving you a list of things to buy. Go to Goal after. I’ll compensate you.”

He began to list off the items; Seto’s eyebrow raised more and more. As Melek finished the list, he chuckled to himself as he gently rubbed the tiny fellow’s head, trying to think more ahead now than the past.

I never thought I’d be signing up for this when joining the gang...

---

Knocking at the back door of Goal-the one used when more ‘secretive’ things had to happen-it was opened by Munin, Huginn’s twin brother. Of a height of Melek, the leather-clad almost glam-rock looking albinos had apparently the skills to actually turn down jobs from AA corps and go work for the big guns if they wanted to...but chose to mostly work as bouncers and bodyguards for Spanky. Other than that, they were a mystery. Sully had heard a few rumors they worked often for Saeder-Krupp, when they did take occasionally jobs, mostly striking at their rivals. There was a rumor they had even been on a job involving the Zurich-Orbital space station, actually having been there on site for it. It wasn’t much discussed, however.

If it was indeed true-and no one really doubted it-it was a testament to how much Munin-a physical adept much like Downfall-had possibly been initiated for him to operate within the mana warp of space.

He looked a bit surprised at the tiny figure wrapped up against his shoulder, though didn’t blink at the blood, which to be fair Melek managed to mostly get off before he left, save for what caked below his knees and somewhat on his camouflage cargos. Nodding, he turned to get Spanky. The brothers could be quite conversational, but weren’t much for small talk, especially in the face of business.

Sitting down at one of the tables in the empty back-this area was more spartan and made strictly for discreet deals-he unwrapped the blanket slightly from the small baby. Spanky made his way back, along with Astarte and Seto-the latter holding the now-cleaned items from the Stuffer Shack.

“So, you needed these for some...where did you get a baby?” he asked, nonplussed. He ran a hand through his scruffy black hair. It was medium-length and constantly looked in need of a cut; much like he seemed to always sport about a week’s worth of scruff on his face. He looked surprisingly human; his small tusks and slightly pointed ears were most of the giveaway.

Melek waved his hand over for him to give him the bottle, which he filled quickly and poked into the little fellows mouth; he was bottle-trained already it seemed and started to drink greedily. He sighed-mostly in relief, and slumped back as he looked at the confused people, as they had absolutely no idea what had been going on. Before he started, he noticed Jolt and Downfall standing by the door; he waved them over, as he trusted them about as much as anyone else in the room.

“Those three killers going around Redmond. I got ‘em.”

“I...could guess that,” Seto said; while he was no stranger to having to fight or shoot someone, he typically wasn’t as brutal about it. “Between us and the walls, Lone Star had actually finally considered trying to find them-publicity was starting to get sort of bad-but they were still taking their sweet time with it, given they care about as much about Redmond as they do stray dogs.”

“Well...this little chummer made it. Thankin’ whatever random gods or spirits might be out there they didn’t notice him or he didn’t wake up before I could get ‘em. The old man wasn’t so lucky.”

“Just the father? Did the mother escape?” Astarte walked over to see him. He seemed to be completely unharmed and in fairly good health for a kid in Redmond.

“I don’t think she’s around anymore. Found pictures of her around the apartment. One in the kid’s room. Only one adult lived there.” He sighed. “Got there too late, frag it all.” He shook his head, and checked to make sure he was eating.

Seto looked down before continuing. It was a somber moment, though he couldn’t help but smile slightly at the little elf grabbing at Melek’s hair.

“You did what you could,” he went on. “More than Lone Star. I imagine they’ll write it up as random violence.” He sighed. There was a damned good reason he quit; corporate police cared more about the bottom line, and the bottom line was provided by richer areas. They often competed with Knight-Errant, the other corporate police force, who would at least accept cred to protect your gutter-like areas, as they did with Tarislar, the elven slum-though the Ancients gang did quite a bit of ‘defending’ there, themselves. “I’ll make sure that a few things get lost if you let me know the scene. I know someone who might help with that, too.” One of his contacts in Lone Star was an elven beat cop; Jolt was chummers with him and they occasionally played online games. They never knew why he remained with them, given they could tell he was trying to actively help and Lone Star were not known for their kindness, but there he was. He did remain someone who would lend an ear to some ‘runners, and he’d even look the other way, though he did make it clear a few times if they pressed certain things in a bad way that he’d have to step in.

Melek nodded. “Thanks, chummer.” He knew by ‘a few things’ he meant the obliterated killers. He adjusted the little guy, who seemed to want yet another bottle. He grabbed at his hair again. “Hey now, take your time. Don’t hurl on my jacket,” he smirked.

Downfall chuckled. “Already needs a wash from tonight.” He walked a bit closer, putting his coffee down first as to not get it too close to the little one. “How...do you know how to deal with kids?”

“Waaait…” Jolt started, his brain clearly working overtime, as it tended to do. “...You never..?’ His eyes grew wide. He was a fairly amusing fellow-the youngest of their team, he nonetheless got along well with everyone, particularly the towering Downfall and even the grumpy, standoffish Talon. 

Melek looked up and smirked finally as he finally continued to feed the youngster. “Nah. Whatever they had put me through with the bad ‘ware and chemicals left me shootin’ blanks, so I never had any. Back in Tarislar-was a slum, still is-often kids wouldn’t have a parent. I only had my old man. Some didn’t have any due to the anti-meta drek at the time. So we’d help look after them if there weren’t more adults around. You pick stuff up.” Melek was around twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, and lived through the Night of Rage, which had left more than one metahuman child without parents.

Astarte smiled, running her hand gently through the baby’s fine hair. She never would have expected this of all things from the violent elf.

“Look,” he said to Seto. “I need you to find out if the mother is alive even though I doubt it. I took the wallet with me so you could get what you needed,” he said, handing it over as he thought. “I guess if not, maybe try to find some other relatives of this guy. Maybe when you go to the scene. I didn’t look too far. If you can’t...maybe an orphanage. Out of Seattle. Might not be safe around here for him, never know who folks’re tied up with.” He rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out two certified credsticks. “Hope this helps.” He also handed him the wallet. “This was the man’s. Dunno if there’s anything in it you can use. Didn’t look too hard.”

Seto rubbed his chin, nodding. People who lived in seedy parts of Redmond and other slums could be indebted to more seedy gangs or criminal institutions-there was no way to tell. “I’ll do as much as I can; I should be able to find out about the mother, at least, with whatever info is in the house. As for the orphanage, I actually worked in Denver for a spell. I know a place that’s less corporate-tied. Good place.” He looked at the little fellow. “Shouldn’t be hard to arrange for transportation. I’d go with them, of course. It’s not a long trip, if it comes to that. We’ll see if he has some relatives and they aren’t…” he trailed off. He knew Melek had been sort of a slum guy most of his life; as opposed to most of the others, who had lived anything from boring middle-class lives to even the lives of nobles, that got tied up into drek that shoved them into the shadows.

Melek laughed. “Into bad drek. I know how it is, chummer. Not like you’re insulting me.” The baby finished the bottle and Melek rest him against his shoulder with one huge hand as he looked back to Seto. “I owe ya. Big.”

“You got rid of a few criminals and paid me. I’ll let you know if I need something small.”

“Also,” he rummaged in his pockets again. Out of it he took a locket and a watch. The locket had what was seemingly a picture of the woman and the man in it. “I found these on a dresser there. He should have them.” He nodded at the locket. “That looks like it belonged to a woman...another thing that tells me the mother’s not around anymore.”

Seto nodded sadly, taking the items. “They usually have things there like that at the orphanage, if it comes to that. Stuff they give to the kids when they get older and such.” He sighed. “At least they were taken care of in short order. Probably would’ve been awhile until anyone got around to catching them.” Pocketing the items Melek gave him, he thought for a moment. “I’ll take him for a few days, security is tight where I’m at. Probably be best that he stays in a proper apartment. I’ll do what I can over the next few days. If I find out the mother’s alive, I’ll do what I can to reunite them. If not...I’ll see what I can do otherwise.”

Melek nodded and rocked the small fellow, who seemingly started to go to sleep. He handed him over to Seto along with the bottle the former had grabbed on the way. “Be tough, little man,” he said, smirking. He stood, shoving a cigarette into his mouth and walking out back. He was about ready for a shower at this point. Astarte walked up next to him as he leaned against the wall, slumping down as he lit his smoke. He fiddled a bit with his dogtags before finally taking the knife he kept in his pocket out and flipping it around his hand as he would.

“Never would have pegged you for that,” she said, reaching for his empty hand. He took it almost immediately. They had been sort of an item for about three weeks now-not unheard of in gangs.

He shrugged. “You pick up weird stuff. I never woulda thought a wizzer to be good with computers.” While most people had some grounding in computers in this day and age, including himself, Astarte understood them far better than most mages he had met. So did Silver, come to think of it. Mages with computers could be a hell of a combo.

She laughed, pulling a cigarette out. “Well-like you said, you pick up weird stuff. I was bored a lot so I would play with them.”

He lit her smoke with his favorite olive-green lighter before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Coming up tonight?”

“Want me to?”

“I’d...like that.” He looked a little forlorn, which was unlike him. He scratched around the datajack at his temple. Most of his heavy cyberware was internal, but he had a few obvious bits like the cybereyes and datajack. He had a chipjack at one point, but given it had been defective and a small part of the reason he had gotten messed up years ago, he never got one reinstalled. He still had the scar on his neck under his ear. His datajack could handle most of anything he needed, from knowsofts to whatever he needed from a terminal.

After they stood and smoked awhile, they saw the door crack; it was Munin, holding a bottle of some of Spanky’s more expensive beer. He handed it to him.

“From the boss,” he said.

Melek tucked his knife back in his pocket and grabbed the bottle in his free hand. “Thanks.” He took a deep drink; treating good beer like this was generally not something he liked to do, but tonight he’d make an exception. Munin nodded, a smirk on his lips, as he slid back inside. After a few more moments, Astarte looked up at him again.

“You’re going to miss that little fellow, aren’t you.” She smirked up at him, squeezing his hand slightly. He returned it, pulling her close for just a moment. He was not one for public affection, but he didn’t seem to mind. He went back to his smoke soon after and nodded.

“I mean, I don’t really know him. Guess I did the best I could for him. It’s just with all the time spent killing you can forget what it’s like to care for somethin’ helpless like that.” He fiddled with some of the metal that adorned his leather jacket. The jacket was fairly intimidating; somewhat of a classic motorcycle style, only a bit looser for freeform movement in combat. I had bits of metal and chain worked in for extra protection, along with what seemed to be parts of tire treads. The back sported a demonic figure that he had actually designed, given his surprising talent in pencil drawing. “I think it also reminded me a little of the old days.”

“I’d say you did well. You saved him. He might not remember it but...he’ll get a new start somewhere. If his mother isn’t around...he’ll get something somewhere.” She was at a loss of what to say. “I wish someone could tell him about you.”

“Null. He don’t need to know the dirty stuff that happened. Would be better if he never knew about that.”

“Hmm. You might be right there. I think he’s in good hands though, by the look.”

“Yeah. I trust Seto. Nice to be able to say that these days.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground, stuffing it out before wandering back inside and looking around at everyone.

“I gotta run. Been a little busy tonight.” He pushed his hair back again. It had gone uncut for awhile; he liked it long, though he’d keep it to around his shoulders with the help of his combat knife every few months.

“Hey,” Downfall started, scratching at his one ragged ear. Next to him, Jolt had disappeared into the Matrix by the look; he had heard they were waiting on the rest of the team for a meet, so he was likely doing overwatch. A fiberoptic cable connected his cyberdeck-fairly large and very customized to his liking-to one of the datajacks on his temple. He had quite a few jacks for both plugs and chips that stood out on his forehead and under his ear.

“Hm?”

“Wanna blow off some steam?”

“What do ya mean?”

“I can get you into Torque.” He smirked.

“Really…” Melek grinned. Torque was running its bloodsport night in its literal underground ring. He knew he could probably find a few of his usual targets there, as the place attracted all sorts of scum that would generally be on his ‘hit list.’ “I think tonight I just wanna lay around. Did my duty. How ‘bout this weekend?”

“Done deal. Also I wanna spar again.” The two-along with Talon from time to time-liked to spar. Both of them had some training in Carromeleg, and Adramelek’s extensive savate training matched up well against Downfall’s tae kwon do. The fact the two were of a similar physical level and size-though Downfall stood a few inches taller at around seven foot seven-also made things fun, though a danger to architecture in their vicinity.

Melek grinned, cracking the knuckles of one hand. “I’ll be ready.” He then turned over to Astarte. “By the way. I managed to scrounge up a little good stuff again.”

“What did you get?”

“Rose wine.”

“...My favorite. How did you find real rose wine?”

He shrugged, showing the small, crooked smile he would get; while many thought he would look a bit crazy when he’d do this, she found it charming in its way.

“Top of the compound?”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “See ya there.” He shuffled outside to be alone with his thoughts for awhile, nodding goodbye to the folks he knew as he left.

Take care of things, Seto. Little chummer deserves it.

----------

So a story about the most violent member of a vigilante gang doing some of his dirtier work, but he manages to find something good at the end of it after all.

Names get utilized in both real and street formats depending on who is doing the talking. Since Melek and Astarte use their real names for each other, when they chat, their actual names, Tarin and Eve, are used. (Some of the other main runners use their real names with each other now and again too, like Downfall and Talon.)

Downfall’s runner team mostly consists of Jolt, Talon, Silver, Vallie and Sullivan, with an occasional other member added in, but they have been known to work with lieutenants of the Nocturnal Sin vigilante gang from time to time, since the lieutenants are actually quite runner-ish in their skillsets. If folks have missed them, you can read about them here. All the rest of the runners show up in their own write-ups. (Silver, Sully, Talon and Vallie don’t show up in this story.) I have to get Seto’s sheet and write-up done, actually!

Just to give some previews of stuff, I have, in the working:

-A story dealing with the main team(Downfall, Talon, Sully, Vallie, Jolt and Silver) that ties in with the very first job they received in ‘The Meet’ story.

-A story dealing with Sully and Spanky(small slice of life type deal), actually I am going to make sure to tell small stories dealing with all of the characters

-Anything that comes to mind!

Finally for a bonus bit, I’ll give my usual sort of ‘Crib Sheet’ notes for folks who may not be as schooled on Shadowrun; this may just give you a little bit more flavor of the world.

-The Barrens, Bellevue, Downtown, etc-they’re all just Seattle districts. As you can glean from the story, Redmond is the slummiest area next to Puyallup(it’s worse than the latter, IMO), that’s basically in ruin with homelessness, crime, and all of that stuff about. Bellevue, on the other hand, is probably the ritziest and most expensive, well cared for place. Downtown is fairly middle class, with some parts that range higher or lower, depending. (Seattle does have several districts. Those curious can see a cool series of maps this person put together.)

-The Zurich-Orbital space station is a station owned by the Zurich-Orbital Bank, an extraterritorial that’s owned by the Corporate Court. You can read more about the Corporate Court here, as it’s fairly in-depth, but in short it involves a rep from all the major megacorporations. Members come and go. The bank is one of the largest banks in the world. Shadowrunners have been known to get hired to do things around the station, given there are named people who live on it as well, but generally speaking these jobs are given to much more skilled and proven types, as it does involve going into space to get to the thing, and they tend to be pretty damn risky. The fact it’s a space station bank owned by a corporate court makes it *super* cyberpunk.

-Synthahol is exactly how it sounds; it’s basically fake alcohol. It’ll get you tanked, but it doesn’t particularly taste good. It’s often drank; the real stuff is costlier(As a story point, Spanky only has a little bit at his bar-he runs a bit of a higher class place, but he does know to try to at least cater to some customers who can’t quite afford the better stuff.) You don’t have to be rich, necessarily, to eat real food or drink real booze, but you’re probably going to want to be running middle-class to eat/drink the real stuff about half the time, using the book rules.

-A Mana Warp is an area of corrupted mana which makes it hard for magically active people-be it mages, shamans, physical adepts, or anyone else-to function. Going Astral is physically painful, in the game, Magic rating is lowered, and anything magic related becomes more difficult. In space, there is no life or atmosphere, and thus it’s basically a total warp while you get to outer space, making all but the strongest mages useless magically. (People of course may still use ordinary abilities just fine; if a mage is also very good with a sword, their swordsmanship is in no way affected; it’s just their spell stuff.) Initiation(which raises Magic) helps with this. On big space stations-like Zurich-Orbital or Daedalus(another one), there is generally enough people and ‘life’ to somewhat lower the mana warp to more manageable levels, but you still need to be well-initiated to handle it. In Munin’s case, he’s initiated probably four or so times, which makes it taxing, but not impossible for him to use some of his stronger adept powers like his Killing Hands or whatnot. (He’s skilled enough without it, though.)